One Line
by TacoMonsterr
Summary: 'One Line' is a wonderful game, or a battle to the death, depending on your point of view. It consists of two or more people. Pass the story back and forth, add one sentence to it each time. The person to complete the story wins. If you are unable to write a sentence, you call 'out', and if the other person cannot finish the story in three sentences, you both lose. This'll be fun.


Hey! My friend Danielle (Luciangrl - go check out her story 'Sweet Lands of Liberty'! I'm having the honor to edit and revise it!) and I started playing this game called 'One Line'- in which your goal is to write a story by passing the story back and forth, each person adding one line to it each time. The player who adds the last sentence to the story wins! If you are unable to complete the story, you call 'out' and if the player after you can finish the story in three sentences or less, then they win! If not... You both lose. We played the, ah, R rated version, and it's rather smutty and fabulous? Maybe?

Well you're reading this little Authors Note so I guess go for it!

**Bold is Danielle/Luciangrl**

Regular is Myself/TacoMonsterr

* * *

**I'm wandering around Iggy's flat in London, when I see a box of chocolates – unopened – in the trash. Being the badass hero I am, I obviously have to save them, even if they're from Francy-pants.**

That blasted frog gave me some more of his nasty dark chocolates – I tossed them of course – but when I return to the kitchen and see Alfred retrieving them from my trash bin, I immediately question his motives.

** Ah, shit; I only had a few, and now I'm hot, horny and hard. ****_Why the fuck would France send England something like this?!_**

"Alfred, why is your face turning red?"

**_Crap, I can't let England see me like this!_**** I'm panting at this point, and my face is as red as one of Spain's tomatoes. "I, u-um, uh…" My legs are crossed in an effort to hide my now tight pants. ****_Let's see if he'll believe a lie. _****"Heat wave?"**

"If you ate the bloody chocolates that Francis drugged I swear on the _Queen-_"

** I manage to squeal out, "Drugged?"**

I sigh in annoyance, about to explain that Francis had been sending me French chocolates laced with ecstasy to try and get me to mount him, and that I fell for it the first time but lied to his girly rump and took care of it myself, when my voice dies in my throat as I realize that they were _laced with ecstasy_ and that Alfred had eaten at least _one_, judging by his trembling stance.

** Recalling the first and last time I had ever tried ecstasy, I visibly pale, memories of Matthew and I feeling like cats in heat flooded to my mind. I have had three of the chocolates, and I'm feeling weaker by the second. ****_Artie and I have only been dating for a few weeks, and we haven't done 'it' yet; I am too ashamed of how submissive I became when aroused._**

I sigh again in defeat as I reluctantly continue with, "… You need help with that, don't you, Alfred?"

** "N-no, I-I'm… good…" I slide down and hug my knees to my chest, my eyes flickering in scared realization that those chocolates had indeed been drugged.**

I see the fear in his eyes as he slips down onto the cold wood floor, a small whimper escaping his mouth at the contact against his heated body, and I sit down next to him, tilting his face towards mine to give him a reassuring glance.

** England gives me a calming gaze, but trapped in my perpetually teenage body, I'm still scared. I'm not a virgin, but contrary to popular belief, I've only actually been with a small handful of countries, and the last sexual encounter I could recall was a good decade ago, and whatever had happened was unknown and scary.**

"Are you… _sure?_"

** "I-I… ****_England…_****" I try to keep my voice even. "Wh-what…" ****_The hero isn't supposed to be submissive. I'm the sole remaining superpower, I can't be this weak. _****Tears form in my eyes. "****_I'm scared._****"**

I give him a small peck, before grinning coyly and straddling him, with a small reply of, "You're getting help, whether you _want_ it or _not_, twit."

**I outright moan at the sudden contact. God I want this, but through my lust hazed mind, I somehow find two brain cells to rub together and form a coherent thought.****_ It's been decades since I've bottomed, and the kitchen isn't the most ideal place, considering how tight I'm bound to be._**** "B-bed…?"**

I groan in frustration, replying with, "What do you expect me to do, carry you to the bedroom?!" I do end up teetering him into the guest room, slamming the door.

** As I flop unceremoniously onto the bed, I manage to convey my intended message between breaths. "It's been a few," breathe, "…****_decades_**** since I've bottomed." I try to close my legs, and fidget on the bed.**

"I as well… This shall be rather careful, won't it?"

** I can feel England's predatory gaze rake over my body, the ecstasy having fully worked its way into my system. I can barely register what was being said, and all I can say is, "England, I ****_need_**** you," before I turn into a pile of need. An overused reference, but I feel exactly like an animal in heat.**

I nod simply, reaching over for the lube I keep stored in all of my rooms complementary – Francis comes over often, with his string of lovers in tow, to my protests, and I can only be a gentleman – and shrug his shirt off, planting soft kisses on his neck and shoulders, sucking softly.

** I melt under his touch, whimpering as he sucks my neck, desperate for contact. I wrap my arms around his frame; the flood of sensation is so overwhelming I can barely handle it. I'm confused and dazed, but I'm at the mercy of Arthur's affectionate touch, desperate for contact, for my release I know won't be enough to stave my hunger.**

I pull my own shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor, before crawling over my American, pressing a kiss to his – very bloody eager – lips, unbuttoning his pants and shredding them away.

** I kiss back excitedly, and whimper at the loss when he pulls away to remove my pants. ****_God, I hate the smug look he gives me when he leaves my boxers intact. His old empire is definitely shining through the normally 'proper gentleman'_****. I finally spot the bottle of lube in his hand, and relax, not realizing I had been tense.**

I chuckle at his impatient demeanor, slowly massaging his inner thighs, milking out moans and whimpers and mewls, drinking them in like a man trying to get wasted at a bar.

** I am putty in his hands as he rubs my inner legs. I'm desperate for the contact, impatient for more, docile under his passionate stare.**

I stare at his comical alien boxers, moving my head down to his waist, before connecting eyes with him slowly, recalling how many rumors I have heard about his size.

**_Oh, God, what is he doing?_**** I suddenly feel vulnerable under his gaze, in only my boxers. My mouth goes dry. ****_Damned oral fixation, I at least don't think he'll try and blow me. I am the third largest, but I am suddenly craving a certain 'Big Ben', and I don't have enough functioning brain cells to care how that is accomplished._**

With a deep breath, I tug down his underwear, taking an eyeful of his member, hard and leaking painfully.

** A sudden gasp escapes my lips as he removes my boxers, Florida standing tall, no longer confined. It's leaking, and it aches for something to be accomplished. I look to England, pleading he do something to my hypersensitive, drugged form.**

With a slow, hesitant lick, I take his tip into my mouth, tasting the salt and flesh as he hisses, bucking his hips upwards for me to take more in.

** I can only struggle in the warm, wet heat as he blows me. I can feel my end rapidly approaching, but I never want it to stop, delirious with lust.**

I full up laugh at how quickly he comes to the simple touch, hurriedly moving my lips lower as to not get any release on the bed sheets, and in my rush, a little dribbles down my chin, too much to take in at one moment.

**With a cry, I release. I expect to calm down, but I barely have time to look at my lover covered in my essence before I grow hard again. "What-" He must have been alerted by my confused tone, as he looks down, shaking his head in amusement and disbelief. He wipes my seed from his mouth with the back of his hand, and climbs up to me, reassuring me with an "It's okay, poppet." He wraps me in his arms in an attempt to calm me down. I can feel his arousal on my leg. ****_At least I'm not alone._**

I move my hands back down, covering a few fingers in lube, before spreading his legs wide, and just _looking_ at him, seeing him squirm and pester impatiently for me to hurry up with stretching him.

** I feel as he works my entrance with a single digit. I squirm under the sensation. Pride evaporating, I thrust back, desperate for release. I want Arthur's throbbing erection inside and I want it ****_now_****.**

"Please A-Arthur… Hurry up…" Echoes through my ears, and stretching be damned; I move my fingers out, and shimmy my way out of my trousers, quickly slicking my heated member before positioning myself, asking for the affirmation I need to continue.

** I whimper at the loss, but am quickly rewarded as he removes his pants and positioned his manhood, glancing at me for a sign of approval. I give a short nod, and try to relax, anticipation building.**

With a deep breath, I start pushing, a soft moan finally escaping my lips, as his legs move around me, arching for the pressure, wrapping himself around me so tight that I can barely move, and it annoys me to such an extent that I hold his hands down, giving a sharp "No." to the touch.

** I begin to wrap my limbs around him, desperate for contact, but when he gives a stern no, all I can do is lie back, and melt under the demanding tone.**

I hold his hands down, but can't stop him from wrapping his legs around me as I fiercely bite his neck, drawing blood as I fully enter him, balls deep in the American.

** I can't contain my cry of pleasure when he bites me at the exact moment he pushes in. As he waits for me to adjust, a confused look graces his features, no doubt because of my earlier reaction to the pain. When I look into his green eyes – my own half lidded – realization dawns on him, and he smiles like a predator that has just cornered his prey. I'm too far gone to realize I just gave away my biggest secret. I tell him to move, and he begins a shallow pace. I relish in the raw friction of my hastily prepared entrance, which is being stretched with every thrust.**

I hold his hands in a tight, vice-like grip, thrusting into him roughly, pleased at the cries and moans he releases, watching him bite his lip with a pleasure soaked grin on his tan, flushed features; glasses askew, legs trembling, hair twisted and sweaty, breath coming out in rasps and pants; _he's gorgeous; he's perfect_.

** As he picks up the pace, thrusting harshly, I bite my lip and release for the second time, my legs twitching with the intensity of the orgasm. He's still holding my hands in a tight clench, as I feel him push harder, and any pattern that might have existed is lost as I come down from my high, already half hard again. His sporadic movement signals how close he is. I attempt to move my head, desperate to taste him. He decides to pity me, and captures my lips in a rough, heated kiss, teeth scraping as his tongue invades my mouth, investigating as though he has to inspect it to make certain it's exactly as he left it. Our lips are sealed right until the need for oxygen becomes unbearable. When the kiss is broken, our lips are bruised and a trail of saliva connects us. Never pausing his thrusts, he angles his hips, hitting my prostate almost every time as we sink deeper and deeper into the foggy haze of pleasure. Suddenly, a sound snaps us out of the trance. England stops mid-thrust, and looks towards the kitchen, as if asking a silent question. The sound repeats itself. ****_Yes, somebody actually has the balls to call right now_****. I'm still pinned under Arthur, and I say, "For the love of ****_God_****, let it go to voicemail."**

I leave the phone alone, reviving my thrusts with effort, feeling him clench around me, his ring of muscles sending me into a stupor as I come, raking my nails down his thighs as he pulls me forward, our lips connecting sloppily, both of us dazed and drunk off of pleasure.

** As he releases into me we meet in a messy kiss, left with the hangover of lust. My erection finally withers, and coherent thought begins to enter my mind.**

** "England?"**

** "Yes, love?"**

** "I love you."**

"Love you too, dear."


End file.
